Don't Look a Gift Bag in the Mouth

This afternoon, someone left a plain, navy blue, paper bag hanging on my front door. To say this was unusual would be a gross understatement. It’s been since my childhood — when people left May Day baskets of candy and treats on doorsteps — that any unexpected goodies appeared out of nowhere at our house. But the bag was meant for me: a handwritten note attached began “Ms. Devereaux [sic].”

(Point of clarification, there is no A in our Irish version of the surname Devereux. The sender obviously doesn’t know me well or doesn’t pay attention to nit-picky details. But kudos for getting Ms. right!)

 A quick perusal of the note revealed that the Salvation Army had delivered this bag as a thank you for completing a recent survey they emailed to me. Imagine if every one of the multitude of companies that bombard you daily with requests to complete their surveys sent gifts afterward? Responses would skyrocket.

The bag included flyers about their estate planning/future giving program and a handful of treats: two Halloween-sized bags of Skittles, one gummy and one regular; a retractable red measuring tape suitable for a sewing room; and two miniature red Salvation Army bells like the ones wielded over their Christmas kettles. The bells had split rings attached, presumably so you could slip them onto a key ring. I immediately put one of them on the font drawer that hangs on my office wall and houses a variety of tiny treasures I love. The other is beside my laptop awaiting deployment.

I am a big fan of the Salvation Army. In 1973, I was a pregnant graduate student whose husband had left her with no visible means of support. It took me a bit to get my life in order, take a leave from school, find an interim job, and support myself until Alexandra was born several months later. During that lean, mean period, the Salvation Army gave me groceries and I have been grateful ever since.

Every January, when we distribute our charitable contributions for the year, the Salvation Army gets a chunk of money. I have been giving to them faithfully for literally decades.  And I will continue to give as long as I can. I don’t say this to brag, just to explain why I might have been picked to get an unexpected gift hung on my front door today. And why they might have included some brochures encouraging me to continue giving after I die.

My immediate reaction to this lovely, unexpected token of appreciation was, “Why are they wasting money on this?  Why don’t they use the money to provide services to needy people?” Munching my way through both bags of Skittles, I did a little research on donor premiums, as they are called in the solicitation business. (Aside: Skittles gummies are surprisingly tasty!)

According to 2018 research by three Texas A&M professors (It's Not the Thought that Counts: A Field Experiment on Gift Exchange and Giving at a Public University | NBER), donor premiums do not generate more money for the organizations that give them out. In fact, they cost more money to give than the amount they generate. But charities must think that showing appreciation to donors will benefit them in the long run or why would they do it?

I do admit to feeling some warm fuzzies when I look at the tiny Salvation Army bell. I kinda wish I had a little kettle to go with it. And the gift did prompt me to write this blog, which might get them a smidgen of notice from a few people. Possibly, I will look over their brochure before I recycle it — not promising.

Maybe the Salvation Army likes me as much as I like them. Maybe they’re happy that my life turned out well enough that I could become a donor. Maybe I am WAY over thinking this and it’s time to stop looking a gift bag in the mouth. (Forgive my abuse of a venerable adage, but I couldn’t resist.)  Time to just say thank you, Salvation Army, the treats were lovely.

Ciao